


Claustrophobia

by Eilera



Series: This Isn't a Procedural Cop Show [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Buried Alive, Claustrophobia, Dorks in Love, Drama, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Serial Killers be Cray, Shatt, They Just Can't Admit It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera
Summary: He could hear his breath stutter in his throat as he hastily felt around himself. It didn't take long to realize he was trapped in a very small box of some kind, only slightly bigger than his own body. The top of the box was only inches from his face. It was so close, he could feel his breath bouncing back on his mouth“No. Nonononono.” He whispered, frantically pushing at the lid. As expected, it didn't budge.He was trapped.The Gravedigger had struck again, and this time, Matt was the target.





	Claustrophobia

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an aside to my fic Fractured, which is part one of my Shatt Police AU series. If you haven't read that one, that's okay, but you would probably enjoy it more if you read that one first. 
> 
> For those of you that have read Fractured, this is set prior to the events in that story. It's also set before Shiro's undercover stint. 
> 
> Special thanks to [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/works) for beta'ing as usual.

Matt woke up to complete darkness.

He blinked, trying to confirm that, yes, his eyes were open it was just really freaking dark. He opened his eyes wider, as if that would suddenly allow him to see. It didn't help. Dazedly, he tried to lift his hand to rub his face only to find his hands were shackled together. His heart skipped a beat as he confirmed that his ankles were in a similar state.

He could hear his breath stutter in his throat as he hastily felt around himself. It didn't take long to realize he was trapped in a very small box of some kind, only slightly bigger than his own body. The top of the box was only inches from his face. It was so close, he could feel his breath bouncing back on his mouth

“No. Nonononono.” He whispered, frantically pushing at the lid. As expected, it didn't budge.

He tried to kick at the bottom with his feet, but he couldn't bend his legs enough to give it much force. He could feel panic rising up from his chest. Frantically, his fingernails scraped against the lid. He felt one or two rip off in his desperation, but the lid remained secure. A scream bubbled up through his throat, choking him.

He was trapped.

The Gravedigger had struck again, and this time, Matt was the target.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_3 Days Earlier_

“Shirogane, Holt!” Iverson barked, startling Shiro out of his review of crime scene photographs.

Shiro snapped to attention. “Captain.”

Iverson and Shiro looked over at Matt. The other man was bouncing his head up and down, a pair of ear buds blocking his ears. His eyes were rapt on his computer screen, flicking back and forth as he read a report.

“Holt!” Iverson commanded, raising his voice.

Matt continued to be oblivious, tapping out a rhythm with his pen and mouthing out the words to the song he was listening to.

Iverson's eye started to twitch – not a good sign for Matt. Shiro covertly kicked his partner from under his desk.

“Ow!” Matt yelped, yanking his headphones off. “Shiro, wha- _Captain_! How are you?”

Iverson glared at him. “What did I say about headphones, Holt?”

“I believe you said 'no headphones', sir.”

“That's right, Holt. And what are those?” Iverson jabbed his finger at the headphones.

Shiro could tell a smartass comment was coming. He’d known Matt long enough that he had developed a sixth sense. He stared imploringly at his friend, but the other man didn't look at him.

“These are _earphones_ , Captain.”

Shiro groaned internally.

“Don't give me that shit, Holt. No _head_ phones. No _ear_ phones. No music. Do you understand me?” Iverson growled, leaning into Matt's personal space.

Matt looked like he wanted to fight it. Shiro kicked him again.

“Yes, sir.” Matt ground out, darting a glare at Shiro.

“Good. I’ve got a new case for you two.” Iverson growled, slapping a file down on Matt’s desk. “Take the newbies with you.”

Matt groaned but the sound quickly died in his throat at Iverson’s glare.

“We’d be happy to, Captain.” Shiro nodded, grabbing the folder before Matt could.

Iverson watched them intently for a moment, before stalking back to his office.

“Someone hasn’t had his happy juice this morning.” Matt grumbled, stuffing his iPod in his desk drawer.

“Why do you always ignore his orders?” Shiro sighed, opening up the folder to scan the details.

“I can’t help myself, Shiro. I don’t handle authority figures well.” He gave Shiro a look that the taller man figured was supposed to be sexy but instead made Matt look vaguely constipated. “I’m a rebel. I like giving the orders. Does that turn you on?”

Yes.

“No.” Shiro replied, refusing to meet Matt’s eyes.

“Hm, something tells me you’re lying, Carebear.” Shiro could practically _hear_ Matt’s smug grin. “Hey!” Matt suddenly yelled. “Get your asses over here, noobs!”

Shiro raised his eyes to the ceiling as if it might allow him to draw from as of yet untapped wells of patience. It didn’t help. “Please don’t antagonize the children.”

“I can’t help myself, gummy bear.”

“Who are you calling a noob, old man?” An indignant voice yelled back, loud enough to cause Shiro to wince.

Lance stomped over towards them, dragging an unwilling Keith in his wake.

“I’m not an old man. I’m your older, wiser, better-looking older brother.” Matt said, standing up from his desk to grab his aviators.

“I have enough siblings already, thank you very much.” Lance grumbled.

Matt had that look in his eyes again so Shiro stepped in front of him, effectively cutting him off. “We have a new case. I’ve sent the details to you Keith. We’ll meet you there?”

Keith checked his cellphone, making note of the location. “Sounds good. I’ll drive.”

“Uh, no. I’ll be the one driving.” Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Shiro sighed. Here we go again.

“Last time you drove, you almost hit that pedestrian.” Keith growled, turning to head for the entrance.

“Excuse me!?” Lance squawked as he followed behind. “I was trying to dodge that cat on the road!”

“There was no cat.”

“It was a calico, I _saw_ it!”

Shiro turned to Matt, trying to drown out the brewing argument. It scared him that he was getting used to it.

“Twenty bucks says they’ll be fucking at some point.” Matt said, gesturing to the bickering newbies.

“I’m not taking up that bet.” Shiro replied, snatching up his coat.

Matt gave him a smug smirk. “That’s because you know I’m right. Just admit it.”

“I don’t need to add to your already overinflated ego.”

Matt grinned. “It’s okay, love muffin, I can do that myself.”

“It’s certainly a talent of yours.”

“You love it.”

Shiro did. That was the problem.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Present Day_

Matt wasn't sure how long he'd been here. The passage of time was hard to follow in the pitch dark. With a box this small, he probably didn't have much air to work with. He did his best to breathe shallowly but wasn't sure how much extra time that would give him. Panic continued to try and overwhelm him, threatening him into near incoherence.

  
He couldn't let this guy win.

Shiro and the others would find him. He just had to hold on.

“This is fine.” Matt whispered, just to hear his own voice. It shook.

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. All he could remember was investigating that stupid home invasion case. His head was killing him. Probably knocked out…somewhere. He could feel blood oozing from his temple to drip on the bottom of the coffin.

He’d checked all his pockets. His cell phone was missing, as well as his keys. He had nothing to use to try and pry open the box or attempt to call for help. All he had was his wallet and the voice recorder he used when interviewing witnesses. Useless.

Laying there, without anything to occupy his mind, was slowly driving him insane. He needed to do _something_. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Anxiously, he tapped his thigh, trying to follow the beat of a song. He was having trouble focusing. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Okay, okay. Focus, Holt.”

Awkwardly, he ran his shaking fingers along the edges of the box again, feeling for any gaps or cracks he could concentrate on. The material felt like wood, something treated with lacquer. He could still smell it, though just barely. Unfortunately, the lacquer was holding it together nicely. He likely wouldn’t be able to force his way through this.

With a sob he let his hand flop back down beside him with a dull thud. What if the others didn’t find him? What if they were too late? He didn’t want to die here, like this. Alone. In the dark. Gasping for his last breath.

His eyes burned with unshed tears.

He wanted Shiro.

He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out again. He repeated this a few times. The lack of oxygen was going to become a problem soon, but he wasn’t going to be able to do anything if he couldn’t control his terror.

He had to believe. He had trouble trusting others, he knew that. It was a problem of his that he didn’t know how to overcome. But Shiro? He trusted Shiro with every fibre of his being.

“Shiro.” He whispered, voice watery.

He would come.

 _He would come_.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shiro clutched his phone so tightly the screen cracked. He hardly noticed it. All he could think about was the chilling voice on the other end promising pain.

“I have your partner, Detective Shirogane. If you want to see him alive again, you’ll wire two million dollars to my account. Don’t bother tracing it, you won’t find me that way. Send me the money and I’ll tell you where to find him. Better hurry, detective. He only has so much air. You have five hours.”

Shiro was up and moving before the caller had finished talking, grabbing his keys just as the telltale click of the receiver signified the end of the call. He was already out the door when his phone buzzed with a text message. It included instructions on where to send the money as well as a photo of an unconscious Matt.

Shiro’s hands shook as he stared at the photo. Matt was handcuffed by his wrists and ankles. There was blood dripping from his head. It looked like he was in a small box, almost like a coffin. He’d been placed in the usual pose of the dead, hands on his chest. Breath hitching, he closed the message program and called up Iverson on speakerphone as he tore out of his underground parking, sirens blaring loudly.

“What?” Iverson’s voice grumbled, sounding distracted.

“Matt’s been captured by the Gravedigger.” Shiro said, voice dead.

Iverson paused. “Get over here now.” He said before hanging up.

Shiro gripped the steering wheel as he took a sharp turn, nearly crashing into a cyclist that wasn’t paying attention to the sirens.

The Gravedigger had made a mistake. He’d targeted Matt. They had better hide and hide well because Shiro would stop at nothing to find him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt blinked slowly. It was still so dark he couldn’t even tell he’d blinked. How long had it been now? He could feel himself slipping. His body felt heavy. He could hardly lift his arms.

Where was he?

Why was it so dark?

His head was pounding in sharp bursts of pain, making it difficult to focus. It felt like someone was taking a searing hot jackhammer to his temple. He moaned, trying to lift his hand to his head but all he managed to do was twitch.

He was so tired.

“Sh’ro…” he mumbled, letting his head loll to the side.

It was so hot and stuffy in here. What he wouldn’t give for a breath of fresh air. He coughed. He was breathing but it didn’t feel like _enough_. Why wasn’t it enough?

Where was he?

Oh right, the coffin. He frowned. He felt like if there was a light in here, the coffin would be spinning. He felt drunk. Sluggishly, he managed to press his hands into the lid of the coffin again. He tried to push, but it still wouldn’t budge. He let his arms fall back down.

He couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t he _breathe_?

His heartbeat stuttered desperately, struggling under the lack of oxygen. He was running out of time. Matt just needed to breathe. That’s all. Just…breathe…just…

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shiro slammed the funeral director into the wall. “Tell me!”

“Shiro!” Lance gasped, eyes wide.

“I can’t!” The director cried, hands gripping Shiro’s forearm.

“My partner is _suffocating_ to death as we speak. I don’t have time for your shit. Tell me. _Now_.”

“Keith-“ Lance started but Keith joined Shiro, pressing up into the director’s space.

“Speak.” He growled, eyes murderous.

“I-I-I don’t know his n-name but I knew where he was going.” The director stuttered, feet kicking the empty air beneath him. His eyes bulged from his head in fear.

“Where?” Shiro snarled.

“T-the cemetery!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt dragged in an agonizing breath. Each one was more of a ragged gasp than a breath.

He was out of time.

He was pretty sure he’d passed out a few times already. That might have actually bought him some time. He’d heard of a man surviving for two whole days buried alive because he’d been in a coma and the decreased oxygen requirement extended his survival rate. Matt wasn’t sure if unconsciousness was the same or not. He wasn’t a fucking doctor.

His hand was wrapped loosely around the voice recorder. This might be his last chance to- to say…goodbye. His coherence was lacking right now, but it was only going to get worse.

He fumbled with the recorder. He was so weak that he was having trouble pressing the button, but he managed. A small green light illuminated the darkness. He blinked slowly, distracted by the change. The recorder fell from his grip with a loud thump, bringing him back to the task at hand.

“Um…” he mumbled, voice raspy. “My name is…Matthew Holt. I’m a detective in…the 89th precinct. I…” he coughed, chest tight. “I’ve been buried alive.”

He paused, not sure what to say. He breathed in a few more choking breaths, throat straining.

What was he doing?

“Pidge…Katie.” Matt could feel tears welling in his eyes again. “You’re the best sister…the best a guy could ask for.” He whispered, too tired to wipe away the tears trailing down his cheek. “You’ll make an excellent…detective someday. I’m so…p-proud of you.”

He dragged in a few more breaths. Just talking that much was a struggle. But he couldn’t stop.

“I love you and mom and dad and…fuck. The dog? I…I can’t remember…his name right now.” He coughed again, the movement causing shooting pains through his head. Why couldn’t he remember his dog’s name?

God, that hurt.

Blearily, he stared at the green light, losing focus again.

Where…where was he?

He closed his eyes against the light, causing another tear to track down his face. He was so _heavy_. He just…he just wanted…

“Shiro.” He choked on a sob, fists clenching briefly. “I…I’m gonna…miss you, buddy.” He felt a spike of annoyance. That wasn’t what he wanted to say.

God, even when he was dying he couldn’t say it.

It was three goddamn words.

“You…you’ve always been there for m-me. I…I…I couldn’t ask…for a better friend.”

He could feel the darkness taking over again, blurring the edges of his vision. His fingers twitched. He needed to say it.

“S-shiro.” He gasped, struggling to drag in just one more breath of air. “I…I…”

His heart pounded violently against his ribcage, the movement almost painful as it struggled to pump oxygen that wasn’t there. Darkness was taking over again. It was time.

He smiled.

“Love you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shiro raced through the cemetery, heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest. They’d run out of time. The five-hour mark had passed half an hour ago.

He prayed they weren’t too late.

“Look for a patch of freshly dug dirt!” Shiro ordered, watching as his comrades spread out. It was getting dark out, making it harder to see, but they didn’t have time to wait for better lighting.

Shiro stalked between the rows of tombstones, dark eyes scanning the area intently. His hands trembled so he clenched them tightly to hide it. Walking this slowly was agonizing. He wanted to run, he wanted to _scream_. Matt was here, somewhere, dying slowly. Alone.

Worse, he could be-

No. Shiro wouldn’t even contemplate it.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled, waving him over.

Shiro was at his side in seconds. There was a perfect section of recently disturbed turf, the smell of fresh dirt strong in the air. The tombstone over the grave was so old the name was worn off with time. However, in the corner, just barely visible, was a drawing of a shovel written with a black sharpie. This was it.

Before anyone could even grab a shovel, Shiro was on his hands and knees, digging frantically with his bare hands. Keith joined him immediately from the opposite side, hauling large swathes of dirt and tossing it away. It didn’t take long to reach the coffin, it wasn’t buried the full six feet. The coffin was made of strong wood, a sheen of lacquer painted on the outside to seal and strengthen it.

Lance passed him the crowbar without him needing to ask for it.

Shiro jammed the bar into the crease of the lid, pressing down with all his strength to pop the lid off. Keith was moving it out of the way before Shiro had even tossed the crowbar away. As Keith lifted the lid, Shiro’s heart clenched in fear at the sight of Matt. His lips and fingertips were a terrifying blue. There was a strange foamy residue leaking from his mouth. Shiro took it all in.

“Matt…” He choked, shaking fingers reaching for his friend’s neck to check for a pulse he knew wouldn’t be there. Sure enough, he couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

No. Nonononono. He wasn’t giving up.

Desperately, Shiro latched onto Matt’s arms, lifting him carefully from the coffin and pulling him up to the ground. He laid him flat in the dewy grass, heedless of the damp soaking into his jeans.

“Get the ambulance!” He barked, watching long enough to make sure Keith was heeding his instructions before turning back to his partner.

“C’mon Matt…” He whispered, leaning over him to start compressions on his chest. He could feel ribs snapping with his frantic movements. Each crack caused his heart to clench painfully but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t, not with-

“C’mon Matt!” He growled again, leaning over to press his lips to his friend’s cold, unresponsive mouth. He forced air into dead lungs before returning to compressions.

He couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

“Don’t do this to me.” Shiro murmured, voice cracking with emotion. He leaned over again to blow more air into Matt’s mouth.

He could feel tears tracking down his cheek, but he didn’t dare stop compressions to wipe them away. They dripped onto Matt’s pale face, running down it and into his sweat-soaked hair. He choked on a sob.

He couldn’t lose him.

He couldn’t.

Suddenly, Matt gasped in a loud breath of air, back arching and fingers clawing at the dirt. Shiro leaned back, eyes wide as Matt coughed and panted, struggling to intake more oxygen. After some moments his crinkled eyes cracked open, staring blearily at Shiro.

“Shiro?” He mumbled, voice slurred and quiet and nothing like Matt’s usual smartass tone.

Shiro pulled Matt in, wrapping his arms around his waist in an embrace. He tried not to squeeze too hard, well aware of the damaged ribs courtesy of Shiro’s desperate CPR. At first Matt was frozen, but after a moment he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, hands clutching his shirt in trembling fingers.

“Shiro…” Matt’s voice just crumbled, fingers tightening around him in a desperate clutch as his whole body started to shake. He burrowed his face into Shiro’s chest and Shiro could feel the wet touch of tears soaking through his shirt. He didn’t even care, his own grip tightening in response. He kissed the top of Matt’s head, heedless of the dirt and grime coating the strands.

“I’m here, you’re safe.” Shiro murmured, rocking Matt gently and repeating it over and over again to reassure Matt and himself.

He was safe.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Home sweet home.” Matt muttered from behind Shiro as the other man unlocked the door to their apartment.

Shiro gave him a small smile as he opened the door and gestured for Matt to enter first. Matt blinked at the extra lighting in the living room. He glanced at Shiro inquiringly.

Shiro looked embarrassed, eyes darting down to stare at his own feet. “I just thought…well I thought you might not like the dark for the next little while.”

Matt opened his mouth, ready with a witty retort, but the words never came out. Instead, he closed it again, swallowing hard. He gave his friend a short nod of gratitude before kicking off his shoes and moving towards their tiny couch. He flopped onto it face first.

“Do you want anything?” Shiro asked as he hung up his coat.

“I want you to come over here so I can cuddle you while we watch Zootopia.” Matt’s voice was muffled by the couch, but somehow Shiro still managed to understand him if the smile lighting up his face was any indication.

Matt’s heart fluttered like a drunken butterfly. God, he was such a sap.

Shiro padded over towards him, lifting up Matt’s head so he could sit down. He shuffled into a more comfortable position and grabbed a pillow to put in his lap. Finally, he lowered Matt’s head onto his lap.

“That okay?” He asked.

“Mmm, not yet.” Matt mumbled, stretching out his arms to wrap them around Shiro’s waist. He snuggled up closer to his friend. Maybe he was pushing the limits of friendship here, but Shiro didn’t seem to mind and Matt just liked knowing he was there, that he could feel him, that he could _touch_ him. That he wasn’t alone.

Shiro ran his fingers gently through Matt’s hair as he turned on the TV, navigating over to Netflix with ease.

Matt could feel the tension bleeding out of his body with each scrape of Shiro’s fingers on his scalp. It was nice.

Eventually, Matt felt himself drifting off. However, every time he closed his eyes his heart would decide to do jumping jacks in his chest. By the third time he jerked suddenly awake, he realized Shiro was staring down at him. He had something in his hand.

“Sorry.” Matt muttered, feeling embarrassed. “I-“ He stopped, finally registering the object. It was Matt’s voice recorder. “Where did you get that?”

Shiro fiddled absently with the recorder, not looking at Matt. “You had it with you in…the coffin.”

Matt felt his breath hitch slightly at the mention of his temporary prison. He vaguely remembered recording something important. If he was dying, it was probably a last message to those he cared about. Which would probably include Shiro.

Shiro.

Oh shit, he’d said that he loved him.

Matt looked up at his friend. Shiro was giving him such a sad smile. Did he listen to it? Did he know?

Shiro blinked and suddenly shook his head wildly. “I didn’t listen to it!” He said, reading Matt’s mind. “I wouldn’t break your privacy like that!”

Matt relaxed as Shiro handed him the recorder. He let his thumb rub against the side of it, up and down, up and down. His heart pounded a loud beat in his chest. Should he let Shiro listen to it? He’d told himself no more regrets.

Matt took a deep breath before hitting the play button.

It was agonizing to listen to his own dying breaths. He could barely talk in the recording. There were long stretches of silence in between his words that indicated he might have passed out here and there. Matt glanced over at Shiro to see his hand digging into the arm of the couch, nearly hard enough to tear the fabric.

“Shiro.” Matt’s voice choked, the sound staticky and distorted from the recorder. “I…I’m gonna…miss you, buddy. You…you’ve always been there for m-me. I…I…I couldn’t ask…for a better friend.”

Matt flinched when something splashed onto his cheek. He looked up to see tears spilling from Shiro’s eyes. He was crying. Matt’s heart clenched at the sight. Before he could say anything, Shiro was wrapping him up in his arms and pulling him in close.

The hug was so strong it almost hurt, but Matt could feel the desperation in it. Shiro was clinging to him as if he was a piece of driftwood caught up in a raging sea storm. Matt choked on a sob, returning the hug just as fiercely. He could feel tears welling up in his own eyes, dripping down his face to soak Shiro’s shoulder.

“S-shiro.” Matt’s voice gasped from the recorder, struggling to drag in just one more breath of air. “I…I…”

Matt tensed, eyes wide.

The recorder beeped once before the light went out, indicating the recording was over. Matt blinked tears out of his eyes. Seriously? The recorder must have run out of batteries just at that crucial moment. That was just Matt’s goddamn luck, come on.

Matt couldn’t bring himself to say it now. Without the threat of imminent death, he just couldn’t do it. He tightened his grip on Shiro’s shirt. It was three goddamn words, why couldn’t he just say it?

They stayed like that for some time and Matt could feel himself drifting off again. The sound of Shiro’s heartbeat was lulling him to sleep. Shiro was warm and safe. Matt would just…close his eyes…for a moment…

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Love you.” Shiro whispered quietly.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Matt. I am so mean to these poor boys. 
> 
> If you like what you see, more is on the way in this series!
> 
> Please feel free to talk to me about Voltron on [Tumblr](http://eilera-chan.tumblr.com/). :)


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